Only Memories
by Linwe Elendil
Summary: Fraser and RayV struggle with the ghosts of what they have loved and lost. Not slash! Spoilers for lots of episodes, see inside. Rating changed due to some language. Complete!
1. Unexpected News

Disclaimer: Ray Vecchio, Fraser and company do not belong to me. I just wanted to play with them for a minute or two – that's all. ;-)

This is the start of a fic that will contain many spoilers. Here are the ones I can think of at the moment. This story takes place between Flashback and Burning Down the House. Spoilers include Victoria's Secret, Letting Go, All the Queen's Horses, and The Deal. I will report any further spoilers at the beginning of subsequent chapters…

But enough of my rambling! Enjoy the show!

* * *

**Prologue:**

"Understood."

Without waiting for a dismissal – it would never come, anyway – Fraser turned and walked out of Welsh's office. He headed resolutely to Ray's desk, and took his customary chair in front of it. Removing his stetson, Fraser placed it calmly in his lap and contemplated his hands.

"Hey, Benny. You okay?" Ray's almost hesitant voice pierced Fraser's thoughts as he looked up at his friend.

"Fine, Ray."

_There it is again,_ Ray thought, _that same innocent expression that hides a world of pain._ Thinking back, Ray remembered the first time he saw it. It was in the lunchroom, after Zuko's friends had beaten Fraser to a pulp. Fraser knew how upset Ray had become – how he blamed himself. Instead of admitting his own anger and pain, the Mountie had pretended like there was nothing wrong. But he hadn't been able to hide the hissing of his breath as he stood. Ray had known in that instant; his expression was just for show. Fraser didn't ever want to appear weak. Human, yes – weak, no.

That's why Ray was worried about him now.

"You heard what the Lieutenant said…" Ray sat at his own desk and placed his elbows on it, leaning forward. "Right?"

"Yes, Ray."

Vecchio looked down in barely hidden agitation. "And that didn't – I don't know – upset you in any way? Cause any… strong emotions to surface?" He looked in his best friend's eyes. He may as well have been staring at an empty room. "Do you want to talk about it?" He interlocked his fingers and waited.

"Ray…" Fraser blinked, breaking their eye contact as he looked down. "There's nothing to say. They found Victoria, and she's going back to prison." He took a halting breath as he stared at the floor. His voice became so quiet that Ray could hardly hear him. "She killed Jolly and tried to frame us for it." Now he hung his head. "It's where she belongs."

"Yeah, but Fraser," the Mountie looked up at him again, "She turned herself in." Ray shrugged. "That has to count for something."

Fraser leaned forward, his face earnest this time. "She doesn't mean anything to me," he said, perhaps louder than he had intended. "Not anymore." Ray sat back and sighed.

"Okay, Benny – okay." Fraser stood, and Ray followed suit. "You want me to drive you home?"

Fraser hesitated a moment, his hat in his hands. With a slight shake of his head he replied, "No thanks, Ray. I think I'd like to walk."

Ray nodded, and watched his best friend head slowly to the exit – Diefenbaker faithfully trailing behind. Once Fraser was out of sight, Vecchio grabbed his coat and his keys.

There was no way he was going to let his friend wander the streets of Chicago alone. Not tonight.

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My first Due South fic. How am I doing thus far? 


	2. Victoria

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything. Sad…

Spoilers for this chapter include _Victoria's Secret I&II, _and_ Witness._

* * *

Always keeping his Buick Rivera a block behind his partner, Ray watched as Fraser walked slowly down the street – almost as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. But Fraser himself couldn't fully explain or understand his emotions.

_Does Victoria really mean nothing to me now?_ He wondered as he placed one foot in front of the other. His stomach had lurched at the news that she had turned herself in. If only he knew what that feeling meant. What was it she had said? _Hate… Love… That about covers it._ The memories returned. How he had kept her alive during the snow storm as he fell in love with her voice. He had known what kind of person she was then, and part of him had tried to resist. Everything he had ever believed about duty – the only thing he had learned from his father – told him he should close his heart. She was a criminal – she was supposed to go to prison. _And being a Mountie_, Fraser mused, _I was not supposed to fall in love with her._ In the end, it didn't matter – his sense of duty had won out.

How many times he wished he could go back and change it! He often wondered how different the future would have been if he had simply looked the other way; for once. But he couldn't. Just as he couldn't steal a simple box of candy and get himself thrown in jail to help solve a case. Detective Gardino had taken the box himself and placed it in Fraser's pocket, then arrested him for the theft. Fraser shook his head, almost smiling; until his thoughts drifted back to Victoria. _She was the only woman I ever loved_, Fraser remembered telling his father's ghost, _and I sent her to prison. Duty is a poor excuse._

It was ironic, he realized sadly. For all of his efforts to stay on the side of the right – to find the good in people and bring it out in them – he had fallen for the one woman he couldn't help. The one woman who wouldn't change. She had made that perfectly clear as she held a gun in his face, kissed him, and shoved him out of the car.

Diefenbaker whined at his feet as they passed a doughnut shop, but Fraser took no notice – still lost in thought. Only when the wolf later refused to continue on, did Fraser realize that he had arrived home. He looked up at the building, remembering the night she had confronted him. "I'm sorry," was all he could say as he kissed her. He had tried to bury his guilt, and make up for the lost years of her life in that one night. Somehow he had failed again, and nearly ruined Ray's life in the process.

_I can't stay here tonight,_ he realized miserably. _But where else is there to go?_ Turning to Dief he said, "Consulate." The wolf groaned in protest, but started walking.

Ray watched as Fraser continued on – wondering where his best friend was going now.

* * *

So, opinions? Is this just mindless dribble? I'm beginning to think so…

A real plot should turn up in chapter four, I think. One more needed chapter of dribble first.


	3. Meg

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters mentioned in this story – though I wish I did…

Another chapter on the short side, but I can tell you this is the last "fluff" portion! Spoilers are mainly for _All the Queen's Horses._

* * *

Fraser stared at the one illuminated window of the Canadian Consulate. _Inspector Thatcher must be working late tonight._

The Mountie sighed and closed his eyes. In the distance he could hear the whistle of a train. That was all it took. He tried to focus his thoughts somewhere else, but failed. It seemed that the world was out to get him today.

_I know you have a heart,_ he had said – almost as if realizing it for the first time. This had been the last piece of the puzzle that was Inspector Margaret Thatcher. He had always been concerned with her seeming lack of emotion, and visible hatred of him. But that day, after thinking him dead, she had _grieved _for him. And when he admitted that he believed her capable of blowing up the train and all it's occupants to save Chicago, he saw that it hurt her. He wished then that he could have taken back those words.

_And I think it beats the same as mine._ She was more of an equal to him than any woman he had ever met, and he knew that she understood him. Here was a woman who could not only share a home with him, but could literally help build the place from the ground up! Her strength was such that it nearly overwhelmed him at times. To see her determination was like trying to stare into the sun. And the kiss they had shared atop the train had made Fraser feel like he could do anything. Suddenly the idea of stopping a runaway train headed for nuclear disaster hadn't seemed like such a daunting task. At that moment, Fraser knew he could have flown – if only she would ask.

He shook his head, forcing himself back to the present. "This was a bad idea," he said, looking down at Dief. The wolf seemed to groan. "I'm sorry," he replied. Focusing on the wolf to clear the lingering memories from his mind, he continued. "Not that it should matter much to you," Fraser teased. "You've slept in worse places than this." Diefenbaker turned away and whined. "You _are_ going soft…"

But no matter how hard he thought about it, Fraser couldn't find anywhere to go. So he continued to stand there, staring ahead at nothing. His posture and expression took on a familiar rigidity as his brain became caught in the same continuous loop of thoughts. He couldn't decide which one of them was worse. _Victoria left me; Meg ignores me._ _Victoria left me; Meg ignores me._ _Victoria left me; Meg ignores me._ Someone might have thought him on sentry duty, had he been facing the street.

A block away – and unable to watch his friend's pain any longer – Ray drove up to the Consulate. Getting out of his beloved Rivera, he stood by Fraser; glancing up at the light. He didn't pretend to know why the idea of facing the Dragon Lady tonight was so daunting, but he'd had a feeling that there was something involving the woman that Fraser was keeping to himself. He shrugged inwardly – when Fraser was ready, he would spill.

Putting a hand on his best friend's shoulder, Ray said, "Come on, Benny. You can sleep at my place tonight."

The Mountie turned to him, a fearful look in his eye. "Well, that's very generous of you Ray, but I don't think I could accept."

"Francesca is out of town, visiting a friend." Ray smiled.

"Oh… In that case," Fraser sighed as he tugged on his ear, "I would be delighted." The corners of his mouth turned up slightly – but Ray still noticed the sadness in his eyes.

Ray nodded, and the three of them got in the car. "Ma might even have some leftovers waiting," he added.

Fraser removed his hat. Placing it in his lap, he began to stare at it intently. They were nearly there when Fraser finally spoke. "Thank you, Ray."

"Hey," Ray began, glancing at his partner – but Fraser wouldn't look up. "What are friends for?"

* * *

And now the plot begins! 


	4. Irene

Disclaimer: See previous chapters. I'm too tired to think up anything clever to put here. :-P

Alright, so I'm beginning to wonder if there really is a plot after all! This chapter hit me like a ton of bricks, and everything fell into place so nicely that I gave up on plot for now. We'll see about future chapters, though. Nothing's set in stone. Well, some things are…

Spoilers include Victoria's Secret, The Deal, and Juliet is Bleeding.

* * *

Once they had finished eating, Ray set Fraser and Dief up on the living room couch. He would have offered Francesca's room, but both men knew that it was out of the question. Fraser could only think of how Victoria had stayed there briefly, but Ray was more concerned with the fact that if his sister found out the Mountie had slept in her room… Well, she would never wash her bed sheets again.

Heading slowly up the stairs, Ray's hand strayed to his presently rotund stomach. _Ma certainly outdid herself tonight_, he mused as he struggled into his striped pajamas. He let his waistline hang a little lower than usual and tried to convince himself that he would be more comfortable that way – but the sad truth was that the trousers weren't fitting all that well tonight. _Mental note – take Fraser out and play some basketball tomorrow._

When was the last time he'd really played? Reviewing his memory, Ray pulled the clip from his gun and prepared to lock it in his nightstand – the usual nightly routine. Shock jolted through him as something surfaced, and he nearly dropped the weapon. _Basketball…_

_We go back a long way you and me, Frankie. And we've got some unfinished business to attend to._ Zuko. Ray closed his eyes and wondered if he would ever be rid of the man. He started to smile as he remembered how good it felt to break the bastard's nose – see him cowering in fear. But his mind didn't stop there.

_You never listen_…

"No," Ray ground his teeth in an effort to forget, but as always, he failed. He had yelled at Zuko – probably pushed him too far. But he wasn't going to let Irene stay in that house with a murderer, especially not when he'd just threatened to kill her, too. Ray clasped his head in his hands, wishing for the millionth time that he could undo that entire week. He felt the heat of his car exploding – the weight of Gardino's coffin. When he closed his eyes he could see Irene. She was happy; smiling. Until she looked down. Her expression became stunned as she found herself bleeding, and she collapsed in Ray's arms.

That nightmare had haunted him for weeks.

Ray's breathing became shallow as he roughly tossed his gun in the drawer and locked it. He didn't even bother to pull the key out. He just sat there, rocking, as he ran a hand through his hair.

Thanks to his stupidity, two people had died. They had deserved better from him – but he had been unable to control himself. Welsh was always saying that his temper was gonna get him killed one of these days. Tonight, Ray wished he was right, and that it had been him in that casket. At least that way Irene and Gardino would still be alive. Blinking against the burning tears, Ray pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

_It was an accident_, he had said. But he knew he was the one to blame. Ray bit the inside of his cheek and fought the urge to punch his pillow. _Damn it_, he thought, _I can't do this right now. Benny needs me._ Unable to withstand the tide of grief any longer, and unwilling to reflect on his failure, the detective practically ran from the room. _Maybe I'll go down to the basement and play some pool._

Ray crept silently downstairs. The sound of running water caught his attention, and he peered in the kitchen to find Fraser scrubbing away at the evening's accumulation of dishes. Ray didn't make a sound, but the Mountie knew he was there – as always.

He spoke without turning. "Everything alright, Ray?"

"Yeah," the detective lied as he walked up to the sink. "Just couldn't sleep." He grabbed a hand towel and started drying a stack of plates. Fraser looked over at Ray and was shocked to find haunted eyes staring back. Ben didn't know what was bothering his friend, but he knew better than to bring it up now. Keeping his face neutral, Fraser nodded.

"Me, too," he said simply.

* * *

So… What did ya think? My muse decided it was time for mindless dribble from Ray! 


	5. Dad

Disclaimer: See previous chapters. Nothing's changed… No matter how much I wish it would!

Spoilers for this chapter include _The Deal _& _Victoria's Secret_.

* * *

After two days at the Vecchio home, Fraser felt that he had overstayed his welcome. Beside that, Francesca was coming home tomorrow, and he didn't want to be there when she arrived. Despite the outward perception he tried to give, Fraser was not at all blind to her advances. He could hardly ignore them after she had appeared in his apartment wearing only… He ran his thumb over one eyebrow, trying his best to forget the image. She was a very attractive woman, but she just wasn't his type, and he didn't know how to tell her that without breaking her heart. The woman was a ball of emotions, and they were all tangled together in such a way that Fraser was reminded of the mythological Gordian Knot. He was afraid to cut into them, for he didn't know what would surface. Instead, he did his best to avoid the problem entirely. 

"You avoid too many things, son."

Fraser fought a sigh as he sat down at his kitchen table. As Ray had driven him home from work that night, neither of them had had much to say, and Fraser found himself concerned for his partner. They had both been through so much in the last year that it was hard to guess what might be bothering him. _I'll talk to him tomorrow,_ he thought, despite the fact that he had said the same thing yesterday.

"They'll eat away at you if you don't face them, you know." The Mountie looked up at the ghost of his dead father. "Trust me, son. There wasn't a day when I didn't think about you and your mother."

"Then why didn't you come home?" Fraser went to the refrigerator as Dief whined. After putting some cold turkey into the wolf's dish, he sat back down. "Why did you leave us alone if you missed us so much?"

"Well… I just…" Bob Fraser struggled with his answer, then shrugged. "I didn't want to be a bad father." Even after such a serious confession, he stood at attention – his posture rigid, and his face unreadable – as usual.

Ben tried hard not to laugh. "Really? You didn't want to be a bad father, so you decided not to be a father at all? Dad, that makes no sense…"

"Love never does," Fraser, Sr. replied. "I loved you and your mother very much. I knew you deserved better than me."

"We didn't want better. We just wanted you there." Fraser stared at the ground, his elbows braced on his knees. "After Mom died… I needed you. I needed a father." He looked up. "I needed a father, and all I got was books."

"Your grandparents were librarians – what did you expect? Besides, that couldn't be helped…"

"Yes," Fraser interrupted. "It could have."

Ben knew he couldn't control the comings and goings of his father's spirit, but tonight he just wanted to be alone. The past had haunted him so much this week that he decided it was time to think about the future. Did he really want to spend the rest of his life in Chicago? His heart yearned for the open country; for tall mountains to climb, and rivers to ford. Here there were only skyscrapers and overpasses – a man made wilderness that was a poor substitute for nature.

"Dad, I'm tired." Even as he said it, Fraser realized just how true it was. "I keep feeling like I want to go home – but right now I don't know where that is."

"Maybe you need to find out, son. Take a vacation – clear your head."

Fraser nodded. "Maybe." He could only imagine what Inspector Thatcher's reaction would be to a vacation request. She wouldn't be happy, but he didn't think she would turn him down.

A sound from the street brought the Mountie to the window. A happy couple walked down the sidewalk, a stroller merrily pushed before them. Bob joined his son and looked down at the family. It was a picture of what he had never allowed himself to have, and it hurt to watch, though he would never tell Benton that. He knew it was too late for him to go back and change the decisions he had made – to raise his family the way he should have. But he had always hoped that someday his son would become the kind of father he wished he had been.

"You can't go around chasing criminals forever, you know. What about a family, son? Things didn't work out between you and what's-her-name, thank goodness, but don't you think it's time to settle down? Do you really want to live the same kind of life that I did?"

Fraser straightened. He certainly didn't need _this_ talk again. "Yes, Dad, I want to live your life. Ever since Mom died and you all but disappeared, I told myself that it was the best way I could get to know you." He gestured toward the thin air with which he was conversing. "At least until you started showing up posthumously…" His father shrugged. Ben knew that he was just as puzzled by the oddity of the situation. Fraser tugged on his ear. "It doesn't matter. I've discovered a lot about you these past two years, and I wouldn't trade that knowledge for anything." Ben tried to smile, but to his father it looked more like a grimace. "As for Victoria – don't worry, dad. I know that duty comes first. I've learned my lesson." He turned his back on the window as he prepared for bed.

"That's not what I meant, son." Bob Fraser shook his head as he stared at the sleeping baby – a sad yearning in his eyes.

"That's not what I meant."

* * *

Only three chapters left now! My muse saw fit to inform me that this is mainly going to be an internal dialogue story (if you couldn't tell), and even left me with an outline of what's to come. I hope you enjoy it! 


	6. Pop

Disclaimer: see previous chapters.

Sorry this took so long! I completely re-worked the chapter. I wasn't happy with it.

* * *

Ray flipped open his cell phone in disgust – it was only 5:00 am! "What?" he fairly yelled into the phone, already annoyed at whoever had woken him.

Silence held the line for a moment. Then a quiet voice said, "This was a mistake." Ray felt his blood freeze.

"You bet it was a mistake," he whispered in response. "What the hell do you want, Victoria?" He heard a sniffle from the other end of the line, but his heart was cold.

"Is he there?"

"No," Ray answered truthfully. "It's five am. I'm sure he's up, but he's not here."

"Good. I want you to tell him something."

"What, that you're sorry?" Ray scoffed. "We both know that would be a lie."

"Look, Vecchio," she began, hatred lending strength to her voice. "This is my one phone call. I'm using it because I want you to pass a message on to him. Can you do that?" She paused, as if the word were caught in her throat. "Please?"

Ray shook his head in disgust. "What's the message?"

"Tell him… that I love him. And that I'm glad he recovered." She hung up the phone, and Ray suspected she had just burst into tears.

xXx

That was ten days ago, and Ray had not found a way to tell Fraser. Part of him knew it was too late – his friend was on vacation. Benny was back at home – where he needed to be right now. Ray sat at his desk, musing over the problem. It wasn't that he didn't want to tell Fraser…

"Of course you don't want to," a voice interrupted his thoughts.

_Great_, Ray muttered to himself. _Like I need this right now._ "Go away," he spat, not even bothering to look up at the ghost of his dad.

"What, you think you can ignore me like you ignore your problems?"

Ray ran a hand through his short hair. "You're one to talk, pop. Just how many days of my life would you say you were sober?"

"Gah!" was his father's articulate reply as he waved a hand through the air. "You're a better man than I was – you can handle things I couldn't." Ray almost fell off his chair in shock. He stared at the apparition, swallowing hard. Here, finally, were the words he had always wanted to hear. But they were said with such a casual air, as if the speaker didn't want to be caught lying – or only said it because…

"You know, pop," Ray said bitterly as he stood, "You always stunk at trying to make me feel better." He viciously stacked his files, causing a business card to fall on the floor. He bent to retrieve it.

_The Feds_, he remembered as he stared at the small print. He'd almost forgotten their offer. All expense paid vacation in Vegas – as long as he did a small favor for them. _Like going undercover with the mob is some trifle…_ But for some reason, he could not bring himself to throw the card away. He held onto it now like a life-line, and found himself seriously considering it.

After a second's hesitation, he picked up the phone.

"Just what d'you think you're doin', kid?"

"None of your business, pop." His ghost-father leaned up against his desk and tried to look Ray in the eye. The detective managed to avoid his gaze as he dialed.

"What, you think you'll impress me by dying? You think I don't know you're in pain? There are other ways to make it go away!"

"Just shut up, Pop." Ray said. The phone started to ring. Once. Twice… "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Then tell me I'm wrong," came the quiet reply.

"You're wrong." Ray stared his father down as someone picked up on the other end.

"Special Agent Sims, FBI – how can I help you?"

xXx

"You understand that I will be in touch?"

"As a friend?"

"Yeah, Benny. As a friend."

Ray placed the receiver back in its cradle and stared at the phone. More than anything, he wanted to escape from the precinct now. To leave behind his old life and memories. But there was something buried under the years of calluses that had built up around his heart, and it was struggling for recognition. He had become a cop to spite his father, but deep down, he knew he had wanted to help people – to find some good in the world, or at the very least protect the innocence of those who shouldn't have to discover atrocities waiting in dark alleys. A picture flashed into his mind. It was Fraser, his face cut and bleeding; barely conscious from the beating Zuko's men had given him.

That was it, Ray realized. For all his friend's experiences, there were forms of evil for which he was not prepared. He had accepted what happened as the price of duty, but Ray had always known that some of Fraser's carefully guarded innocence had died that day. That alone was reason enough to fight. With a smile and a nod to Welsh, Ray picked up his small box of belongings and walked from the room.

Now, he had a goal. Finally, he had a purpose.

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Hope it was worth the wait. :-) 


	7. Home

Disclaimer: Still don't own the rights, or the DVD's.

I apologize that this chapter is on the short side, but at least I've updated something! One more chapter, and this story will be concluded. Thanks to all those that take the time to read despite my long absence…

* * *

Fraser couldn't have seen it himself, but he walked the streets of Chicago with more confidence now. Dief trailed along as usual, and the mountie ignored his whining for as long as he could. And then the wolf sat down. "Oh, for God's sake," Fraser began, refusing to stop completely. "I think I provided ample explanation. Ray was otherwise engaged, and taxi policy precludes the transportation of wolves. C'mon." Dief finally began to move again – perhaps unwilling to be left behind. "Aside from which, we're almost home," he said, hoping to encourage his best friend. "The end of the alley, turn right. Cross the street. Climb the stairs. We'll be as snug as bugs…" That was when he saw the trucks. 

"In a fire."

xXx

Walking through the charred remains of his apartment, Fraser felt a deep sense of loss. The small room had never felt like home itself, but he couldn't help feeling that many of his memories were doomed to remain in the rubble. His time with Victoria, making breakfast for Inspector Thatcher, and – he remembered with a shudder – Francesca's grand appearance. _On second thought… perhaps this isn't such a bad thing._ He had gone back to Canada in the hopes of finding home. What he had discovered was that home could only be found with those he cared about.Maybe it was the shock caused by the loss of most of his possessions, but the only memories he could summon of living here were ones of failure. This could be just what he needed – a chance to start over. 

A phoenix from the ashes. 

Fraser kicked over a piece of wood to discover Dief's silver bowl – miraculously in one piece. A small thing compared to what he had lost, but it was enough. He was taking one last look around the building when he spotted the perfume bottle. Wondering if it was something Victoria had somehow left behind (but knowing he would have found it before now if it was), he lifted it carefully, testing the scent. Not hers. He filed the smell of the ruined bottle in his memory and turned to leave – starting as he came face to face with his father.

"Not an easy thing – to lose a home."

"No," Fraser answered, a little too quickly. Listening to his father's tale, he felt the same starved interest that often accompanied visits from this ghost. His Dad's emotional confessions were few and far between, and Fraser frequently found himself wishing for another insight into this near-stranger's life. Hearing his father talk about spending four months in an igloo with his mother (resulting in his own birth) should have made Fraser feel slightly embarrassed, he supposed. Instead all he felt was gratitude.

"I wouldn't let this get to you," his father concluded. "Something good might come from it. It did for me." 

Unfortunately the moment didn't last, and all too soon Fraser found himself alone again., though he did feel significantly lighter of heart than he had moments ago. After saying a silent goodbye to the most painful of his memories, he picked up the silver dish and tucked it safely in one of his bags before walking away.

Dief trailed along behind, still whining. "Well," Fraser said, resolutely, "looks like we'll have to make due with living at the Consulate for now." The wolf looked at him, incredulity plain in his eyes. Fraser smiled thinly. "How about we swing by and visit Ray at work?" Sensing Dief's disparagement at having to walk all the way there, Fraser added, "I wouldn't be surprised if we find a spare donut or two in the canteen." The wolf leapt to his feet, and Fraser shook his head. 

Some things would never change.

* * *

I hope you liked it. One more to go!


	8. Ray

Disclaimer: For those anxiously looking forward to the day I get the rights for DS, I'm sorry to have to disappoint. Still nothing. Anyone willing to sign a petition can… well… start a petition!

I toyed with different ways to start this chapter, and eventually settled on the end of "Burning Down the House." For those waiting to see how I would write the meeting of Fraser and Ray Kowalski all I can say is, "Umm… sorry!" I thought that scene in the episode was so well written and acted that anything I added to it would have been redundant. I hope you're satisfied with what I've done instead.

* * *

The imposter stepped in front of Fraser just before the gun went off, and the mountie caught him as he collapsed, lowering him as gently as he could to the ground. Rushing up to Ms. Garbo, he disarmed her and typed her hands securely, pushing down the urge to knot the ropes a little tighter. Running back to the detective, he called out, "Ray." He had taken the shot on the right – opposite his heart. "Ray!" There was no blood, and he still appeared to be breathing. "RAY!"

"Ta da!" The man called out as he opened his eyes. Fraser felt confusion cross his face in the split second it took for the detective to lift his shirt.

"A vest," the mountie observed.

"You called me Ray."

Fraser was so shocked by this revelation that his first thought was to deny it. "No I didn't."

"Yeah, you did."

"No, I didn't."

"Yeah, you did."

He relented. "It was a mistake. C'mon." As Fraser helped up the unnamed detective, the man couldn't resist one last jab.

"You know I'm Ray. Don't fight it, Benton – buddy."

"You are not Ray. You don't even look like him."

"Could'a had plastic surgery."

"You could also be unhinged."

"I got papers to prove it – I'll show ya."

"I don't want to see 'em."

"I'm Ray!"

"Alright – if you were Ray, where were you born?"

He tried to change the subject. "Ah… that was smart – for me to get shot."

"Ah, ha! See?"

The detective laughed, and Fraser did his best to keep his doubts hidden. All his tests into the man's identity had proved that the Ray Vecchio he knew was gone. Except for the only test Fraser couldn't have planned – one of character. Bullet-proof vest or not, by stepping quickly to the left, the man had saved his life. Just as the real Ray would have done.

xXx

As Fraser left Welsh's office, he felt as though someone had slapped him. Ray really was gone. His friendship was the one reason Fraser had returned home to Chicago – why he had concluded that this _was_ home – and suddenly it was as if the Ray Vecchio he knew had never existed. _I should have found out what was bothering him_, the Mountie thought with regret. _I may never know…_ For one dreadful moment, Fraser wondered if it wasn't he himself that had driven Ray to accept the dangerous undercover assignment.

Then the new Ray handed him the postcard. Seeing the picture of his friend loosened the knot in his stomach. Whatever Ray's reasons had been for leaving, clearly he had felt it was right. Fraser just hoped he would get the chance to talk with him about it someday.

"Somethin' I should worry about?"

"No, no. No, everything's alright." Fraser smiled for a moment. "Everything is actually fine."

"You want my opinion?" his father asked a minute later.

"Do I have a choice?" He wasn't actually sure if he was being sarcastic or not.

"He's a good man."

Fraser nodded to the apparition. "I think you're right."

As the pseudo-Ray prepared to leave, Fraser found himself questioning his ability to handle all the changes that had been sprung upon him in so short a time. He wondered if he could live a lie – working with this detective, acting like nothing was different. But as he looked into the honest face of the man who had assumed his partner's identity, he knew that he would.

_After all_, he thought to himself as Ray's words echoed in his mind, _What are friends for?_

* * *

**THE END!!**

**Thanks to those who have kept tabs on this story! I really enjoyed writing it!**

**You know I wouldn't turn down reviews, right?**


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